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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29278416">The One Where You Choose</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/thestanceyg/pseuds/thestanceyg'>thestanceyg</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Criminal Minds (US TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:21:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,635</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29278416</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/thestanceyg/pseuds/thestanceyg</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>What is this story about? Who knows! At the end of every chapter I will pose a question to the readers and they will dictate where things go next. Tags will be added as the story progresses.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>147</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>59</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Darcy’s eyes were glued to her phone as she stepped off the elevator. Her sister was supposed to be texting or calling her very soon. Or, at least that’s what Sam had promised. He was supposed to have proposed fifteen minutes ago over dessert. He had been so worried about it that Darcy had sat down and made him a detailed timeline to help him feel more in control of the situation. She thought that it was hilarious that the man could throw himself off buildings and use those damn wings with no problem, but proposing to her sister was a terrifying prospect that needed detailed plans with backups for the backups. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was also kind of sweet, though. He wasn’t nervous she’d say no. In fact, they had discussed the prospect of getting engaged three months ago, so he knew she was going to say yes. No, his crippling fear came from wanting to give her a perfect memory; the ideal story to tell their kids. And really, there was no way Darcy could be upset about that, so that’s why she had taken the time to help him figure out (to the minute) how the night would go. Darcy had even made sure to send Bennie a dress last week that she “just saw in the window and I knew you had to have it.” Sam knew what color the dress was and had a matching pocket square. And Darcy knew Bennie was wearing it because she had gotten a selfie before Sam picked her up exclaiming how perfect the dress was and how she couldn’t wait to see Sam’s reaction to it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And ever since it had been radio silence from both of them. Like, sure, make memories, but couldn’t they also keep her updated? She was dying here!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Just as she was digging in her purse for her keys, her phone rang. She gave an excited yelp and immediately dropped her bag as she pulled her phone to her ear. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello?” she said as she bent over. Of course, everything had to dump out all over the floor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Darce?” Bennie asked, before plowing on, not even waiting for confirmation. “You won’t believe what just happened!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tell me!” Darcy demanded, crouching down in the mess without picking anything up. SHe wanted to be able to focus fully on her sister.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sam proposed!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Darcy let out a happy little squeal. “Tell me everything!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bennie started telling the story of her night, and Darcy noticed that all of the details matched up with the plan she had worked out with Sam. He hadn’t needed any of his backups at all. As Bennie finished up, promising to send pictures of the ring, Darcy started gathering her items back into her bag. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m so, </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> happy for you both,” Darcy said. She was smiling brightly. “I love you. Tell Sam I love him too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bennie promised to pass along Darcy’s love and hung up. Darcy spotted her keys and snagged them before throwing the last of her things in her bag. She unlocked her door and saw Florence run between her feet and into the apartment. She tilted her head to the side, eyes following the cat. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Did she have…</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she thought, trying to figure out just what it was she saw.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Excuse me,” a voice said behind her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She turned to see a man standing there somewhat awkwardly. He had a bowl in one hand and was stirring whatever was in it with the other. “Hello?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He switched stirring directions. “Ummm, was that your cat?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” she said slowly, drawing out the end of the word.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Umm, then I think it stole my underwear.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She looked at him blankly for a moment before turning to look into her dark apartment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded toward an open door just down the hall. “I heard what sounded like a scream, so I opened the door and he ran out with them. I didn’t even know he was in the apartment.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, that was probably me,” she said, thinking back to her reaction to Bennie’s news. “My sister just got engaged.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ahhhh,” he said. “Congrats to her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks,” she said with a nod. “I should, ahh, get that underwear for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m next door,” he said, nodding his head down the hall once more. “I hate to complain and run, but this is a very temperamental recipe and I need to add the butter very soon or it will be ruined.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. Sure,” she agreed. “I’ll, err, be over once I grab them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks.” He stood there waiting for a moment before finally turning stiffly and walking away. She watched him until he was back in his own place before she finally entered her own apartment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She flipped the light on in search of underwear. Well, that’s not exactly how she expected her night to finish.</span>
</p><hr/>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Who is the neighbor with missing underwear?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Leo Fitz</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Spencer Reid</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Bruce Banner</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>John Watson</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Darcy wasn’t sure if she should be appalled or impressed. It had taken her nearly an hour, but she had found Florence’s underwear stash squished between a chair and the wall. And it truly was a stash. There were eight pairs of boxers crammed into the tiny space. Each fully covered in cat hair. She really felt bad about returning them in that condition, so she threw them in her laundry basket and headed down to the laundry room for some late night washing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sat to wait on her clothes because there was one jerk in the building that liked to take your things out, sometimes mid wash cycle, and use your machine, even if there were others free. She didn’t get it. They didn’t have to pay for the machines, so the idea of stealing someone’s rinse cycle made no sense to her. As the machines lulled into their rhythmic thumping, she debated texting Bennie about the strange encounter with her neighbor and her cat’s less than ideal extracurricular activities. However, she decided to hold off. Bennie just got engaged. There was no way she wanted to talk about oddball cat behavior. She, ideally, wouldn’t be in a position to answer her phone for the rest of the night. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Instead she decided to check her email. She wasted time unsubscribing from a bunch of things she never signed up for. She wondered who had sold her address. Oh well. At least it was a good time killer. As she hit unsubscribe on the last one, a new email popped up from Jane.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hey Darce,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m not sure how classes are going, but you’ve got to be wrapping up soon. Am I right that you defend your dissertation soon? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I feel like it’s been forever since we’ve had the chance to talk about something other than science. Not that I don’t love talking science with you, it’s just I miss nights on top of the dealership drinking cheap wine and talking about anything and everything.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Come see me. I can’t get out of the city right now because my mom isn’t doing well, so I don’t want to be too far, but I miss you. I’ll pay for the tickets. You can stay at my place. I’ll take you to that fish and chip shop we found if it hasn’t finally been closed for health code violations. Even if the answer is no, can we at least make time for a video chat? I need to see your face.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Jane</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Darcy stared at the email for a long moment. She missed Jane. A lot. She had successfully defended her dissertation a week ago and clearly had forgotten to tell Jane because she had immediately had to deal with an undergrad plagiarism issue. She technically was done teaching classes next week, and then she had to stay through finals week and grade all the baby physics exams. But after that...well, she didn’t have much beyond waiting to see if the university was going to offer her some postdoctoral work. She held off on the answer for now. If nothing else she would definitely be calling Jane just to catch up. She hadn’t actually seen Jane since just after the break-up with Thor. Darcy had to return to campus for classes and Jane...well, Jane did whatever it was she needed to in order to deal. Jane deserved Darcy being a better friend than that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The buzz of her washing machine brought her back to the laundry room. She quickly moved everything into the dryer. As she pressed the button to start the dryer she heard the door open.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh!” the person said. “I was expecting it to be empty.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It will be in about half an hour,” Darcy said with a smile. “This wasn’t a planned laundry trip.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The woman gave her a quizzical look and then offered up, “I like doing the laundry late at night. No strange men in here trying to get a look at my unmentionables.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Darcy grimaced. “Ugh. Yes. Like that guy that always wears the beanie that looks like it’s never been washed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes!” the woman agreed. “What’s his deal anyway?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Darcy shrugged. “I just know he lives somewhere on the third floor. Or. at least he hangs out there a lot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good to know,” the woman said as she added the detergent to her washer. “Now I know where to avoid.” She dropped the lid and turned the machine on. “I’m Gertie, by the way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Darcy,” she said, smiling. “I’m on the fourth floor.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Second,” Gertie said with her own smile. “Which is nice because hauling all my equipment around can be a pain in the ass.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Darcy looked at her, confused.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh! I’m a welder. I mostly do sculptural art that I sell at the gallery over on R St, but I also take on just random freelance repair jobs.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So cool,” Darcy said, imagining how well Gertie would probably get on with Jane. “I’m an astrophysicist. I just finished my PhD at Georgetown.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Holy shit!” Gertie said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Funny, that’s what I was thinking when you told me what you do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gertie flopped on one of the worn chairs and pulled out her sketchpad. “Wanna see what I’m working on?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hell yeah I do,” Darcy said, quickly moving to sit next to her new friend.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When her dryer cycle finally finished, Darcy and Gertie had exchanged numbers and promised to meet up later in the week for coffee. Darcy threw a wave over her shoulder and hauled her now clean clothes back up to her apartment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Darcy looked at the underwear that she had folded and placed in a pile on her bed. Should she return them in a bag? Just carry them over as is? She looked around the room for inspiration and then remembered that she had a shoebox she kept forgetting to take down to the recycle. Decision made, she packed up the box and made her way next door before she could talk herself into waiting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She knocked on the door and waited. As the silence wore on, she wondered if she should knock again or just wait until tomorrow. It was somewhat late now, and he might have gone to bed already. He probably hadn’t expected it to take an hour and a half to return his underwear.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Just as she was about to turn back to her apartment the door opened.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh! Hello,” he said. He looked just as rumpled as he had in the hallway, though this time his hands were empty, and she could smell a slightly charred odor wafting out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I, uh, just wanted to bring by your underwear. Sorry it took so long.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He frowned. “How long has it been?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Almost two hours,” she said, wondering how he had lost track of the time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded. “That makes sense. After I had an...incident with my baking I lost track of time trying to salvage my pan.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That sucks,” she said. “Err, I found several pairs. I honestly don’t know how you haven’t, like, needed to go shopping with how much Florence hoarded.” She held out the shoebox to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His brow creased. “I’m only missing the one,” he said, taking the box from her and looking at the contents. He pulled out one pair and passed the box back to her. “Seems like your cat’s been naughty.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She thought there might be some sort of euphemism there, but left it alone. “Of course she has been,” she sighed. “Well, enjoy?” she said, cringing at her word choice. “I’ll see you around.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She turned away from the doorway, but had only taken a step when he called out, “My name’s Spencer.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She turned back around. “Hi Spencer. I’m Darcy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I only knew your last name because it’s on the mailbox. It’s nice to meet you Ms. Darcy Lewis.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Actually, it’s Dr. Lewis.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes lit up. “Are you the author of ‘Astrometry in Binary Systems and the Implied Bias of Their Importance in Globular Clusters’?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She looked at him, shocked. “Yeah. That’s me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d love to talk about your research sometime. It’s fascinating!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you also an astrophysicist?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” he said, still smiling. “I work for the FBI. I just have an interest in astrophysics.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“THat’s some interest to be able to follow my papers.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pulled a card out of his pocket. “I’m sure you’re just as busy as I am, but whenever you have some free time, give me a call and we can get coffee and talk.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She took the business card from him. “I will.” She waved the card at him. “Thanks, Spencer. Have a good night!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You too Dr. Lewis.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He closed his door and Darcy went back to her apartment. She placed the shoebox on her coffee table and wondered just what she should do with everything that was left in the box.</span>
</p><hr/>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What should Darcy do with the remaining seven pairs of underwear?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>-Put up a poster in the laundry room asking if anyone is missing boxers.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>-Donate and/or recycle them at a textile recycling center</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>-Give them back to Florence</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>-This other great idea that I will explain in my comment</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Darcy sighed as she stared at her computer screen. She was nearly done grading the final projects for her class, but she wasn’t sure she could stand looking at a single one more. She wondered how many of these students had already had a composition class and whether or not they had passed it. She wanted to chalk it all up to the stress of the end of the term, but she really couldn’t get past the misused homophones without feeling a little bit bitter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So, she took a break. It would be a disservice to both her students and her if she kept on with the grading. Instead she opened up a web based image editing app and got to work on making a poster for her pile of unclaimed underwear. She had gone home after talking to Spencer and looked over the remaining boxers and wondered what to do with them. She was highly tempted to just give them back to Florence, but she felt like that was too much like rewarding the cat. So a poster it was. Ideally none of her neighbors would think she was strange for this, but she was willing to chance it to make sure everything got back where it belonged. At least one of these pairs was silk. Those probably weren’t cheap. So she had decided on a poster. Granted she had come to that conclusion several days ago, but she figured a few more days wouldn’t hurt considering she had no idea how long most of the underwear had been gone for.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thus she went about making a poster that she hoped was a good mix of funny and self-aware. Then she made an email address just for this task. She wasn’t about to just give out her cell number, nor was she going to use her normal email. Besides, Florence was a pretty consistent kitty. Once she latched onto something, that was her thing forever. There was a reason that Darcy could only use the bright pink plastic bowl she got at Ikea in the kid’s section. If Florence’s water was put in anything else she threw a fit until the pink bowl made its way back. Thus, Darcy was certain this new underwear stealing problem was going to be a life-long issue. It wouldn’t hurt to have the email address at her beck and call.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She checked the time and realized that she needed to take off now or she would be late for her last class of the week. She quickly saved her work and stowed her laptop, heading down two floors to the lecture hall where she would see this set of students for the last time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Class dragged on, and she almost couldn’t believe that it had only been ninety minutes when they finally adjourned. It had easily felt like three hours. She made a note that she should change the final topics up a bit so she didn’t have to hear so many repeated presentations next term.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She went back to her office and didn’t even bother trying to finish up her grading. Instead she finished her poster and printed off a few copies. She’d put one in the laundry room and another on the notice board in the mail room. She’d keep the other few on hand for the future or in case those two got damaged before all the underwear had been accounted for.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She immediately hung up her signs before making her way to her apartment. As she came up the final set of stairs she crashed into Spencer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh! Sorry about that,” she said, her cheeks a little pink with embarrassment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s really no problem,” he said smiling. “I was actually on my way out to meet friends for dinner, but I always leave early. I hate being late to things. Running into you doesn’t make me late at all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well, she hadn’t thought she might be making him late, but she guessed she was happy she wasn’t. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good. I’m glad.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked at her for long enough to make it a touch awkward before he said. “You still want to get coffee sometime, right? I really do want to talk to you about your paper.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh! Yeah,” she said, feeling a little bad that she hadn’t gotten back to him earlier in the week. “Sorry. It’s the last week of classes and I’ve been swamped with grading final projects and making sure things are squared away for finals next week.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not a problem at all,” he said, his hand thrust deep into his pockets. He was rocking on his heels a little. “I just wanted to check. Sometimes I’m bad at reading these sorts of things.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I get it. Ummm, how about we plan on coffee near the end of next week? I’ll be done with finals then?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A smile lit up his face. “Absolutely. Well, as long as I don’t have a case. I’ll let you know, though. Err...I don’t think I have your number though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh! Right.” She dug in her bag before pulling out her card and then flipping it over to scrawl her cell on it. “There,” she said, handing it to him. Their fingers brushed, and she was surprised that she felt a bit of a tingle where their skin had touched.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He took it and flicked it through his fingers, and it disappeared like magic. “I do need to go now. It was nice running into you, even if it was more literal than figurative.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She laughed. “Same. Have fun with your friends, Spencer.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded and then disappeared down the staircase. She watched him retreat for a moment before shaking out of her thoughts and heading to her apartment. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She made herself dinner and opened her school email. There was bound to be at least one student wanting to know something about the final or wanting to try and explain away some error on their final project, and she wanted to make sure she got back to them right away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When her email dinged, she slid over with her glass of wine and the slice of cheesecake she had treated herself to earlier in the week when she had done the shopping.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Ms. Lewis,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>As I am sure you are aware, Finals begin on Monday, May 2nd and conclude on Saturday May 7th. Your final grades are due by 5 PM on Tuesday May 10th. You will have until Wednesday May 11th at 5 PM to return all keys and school materials to me as at that time you will no longer be employed by the university. At this time we no longer require your services and will not be offering an option to continue your employment with us. Make sure that everything is out of your office and all checked out materials have been returned otherwise your final paycheck might be docked.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Anthony Howardson</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Dean of School of Physics</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Darcy stared at the email thunderstruck. She wasn’t going to be offered even an adjunct position? But she had applied. She had interviewed. She was named on over thirty papers and was the principal investigator on a third of those. She had interned with a Nobel Laureate. She had won several grants. She consistently got good reviews from students. Why wasn’t she being offered continued employment? She scowled at her laptop for a moment before roughly closing it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fucking Dean Howardson. The misogynistic asshole had always had a problem with her because she was a woman that was a better researcher than he was and was better known. And instead of seeing the boon she should be to the university he was tossing her out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She let her head hit the back of the couch. What the hell was she going to do if she wasn’t working at the university?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She wanted to cry, but refused. She took a deep breath and went to the kitchen to grab the wine bottle. She would probably need it. She needed to think about what was next, but first she needed to not think about it and make a little space between those words and her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She opened her laptop back up and was surprised when she had a ping on her boxer email. If nothing else, this one should be quite different than the last email she had read. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Dear Florence’s Owner,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I have been trying to figure out where my boxers went for weeks. At first I thought I had simply lost them in the dryer and someone else had unwittingly picked them up and that was that. But then I lost a second pair, and that just seemed a little too convenient. I’m glad that I haven’t somehow lost my mind, but, instead have been the victim of a cat caper. And while I’m not sure that I can bring myself to wear them again after they have been cat burgled, I certainly would like to at least get them back for the story. Can we arrange such a meeting? If possible, I think I’d like to look the criminal in the face so I can start to move on from this traumatic experience.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Let me know.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This email certainly made her smile. It wasn’t signed, and the email address didn’t hint at the sender, but she liked the overall joking nature. She quickly shot off an email about meeting up over the weekend in the laundry room and found herself very excited to see how that panned out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She drained her wineglass and then refilled it. Time for some mindless scrolling before she really thought about what her future was.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Who should Darcy call to talk about the Dean’s email?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Jane</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Gertie</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Spencer</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Her mom</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I thought about making the poster and putting it in the chapter. I might still make it and put it on my tumblr.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter took so long because I kept changing the choice at the end. Sorry for the delay! Also, I am LIVING for some of the comments you are leaving. I'm loving the defense and explanation of choices! I've almost been swayed to a non majority choice because of those comments.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“He what?!” Jane screeched so loud that Darcy had to pull the phone away from her ear.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know. I was there.” She was sitting in her office looking around the space and wondering how she was going to say goodbye to it. She had been in this space for three years now. Her plan was to take some things in her bag every day. She surprisingly didn't have a whole lot of things in the space because it was shared with someone else, but that didn’t mean the impersonal space wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> impersonal space.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How can they do that?” Jane continued to rave. “You’ve brilliant Darce! They should be falling all over themselves to keep you. I mean, God, I’ve read all of your papers and you’ve come up with theories I didn’t even consider and you’ve got this amazing evidence and I just don’t get it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t either, but what can I do?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well visit, obviously,” Jane said immediately. “Come for a week, say, a week or two after you’re done with finals?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Darcy had been mulling over the visit. She certainly wanted to see Jane, but now she wondered if she should be working on her job search. Of course, no one would be able to turn around an interview that fast. She’d probably be just looking for places and sending out her initial applications. She looked at the calendar and crinkled her nose at the fact that she was in the office on a Saturday because she needed to grade finals.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. I think that’s a good idea. Let’s do it right away, though? I think I’d like to do it the first week.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Awesome. I’ll start looking at flight options and get back to you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re the best,” Darcy said as she dropped a few items into her bag to take back to the apartment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m also going to call around. See what I can find out. Seriously. This is some bullshit. I dealt with this so that you didn’t have to.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re not that much older than me, Janey.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So what?” Jane countered. “I still was in the field years before you and fought against this assholery. It’s not okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you Jane. I hope you know that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course I do. Just like I know you’re going to prove it by bringing me some of my favorite American snacks when you visit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Darcy smiled. No matter how much things changed, they stayed the same. “Already was planning on it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And that’s why you were my favorite intern.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Only intern,” Darcy said, falling back into their routine banter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Exactly. I could have thought you were the worst. You were the only one to compare to my expectations. They could have been wildly unrealistic and I could have thought you were terrible. But instead I think you were pretty great.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her office mate entered and gave a little wave as he continued to bop his head to whatever was playing over his headphones.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think you’re pretty great too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve gotta go, but watch your texts for flight options, okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You got it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They hung up and Darcy looked at the pile of finals still setting on her desk. She was done with about a third of them, which wasn’t too bad considering she had been grading for the past three hours. She anticipated being done by the middle of tomorrow. She checked the time and decided there was no point in waiting any longer for lunch. She wouldn’t be able to get more than two graded before she needed to leave, so she grabbed her bag and keys. She locked the exams away in her desk and took off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gertie had picked a little bistro down the street from her studio space, and Darcy was excited to not only meet up with her new friend, but also to take a look at her work. They had set this lunch up two days ago, and she found she was happy for the distraction. She needed something to keep her mind from wandering back to her pending unemployment. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gertie was already sitting at a table when she got there. “Am I late?” Darcy asked, checking the time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nah. I just needed out of the studio. I was getting caught up in the details and needed to step back and take a break before I got back to it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re getting ready for a show, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gertie nodded. “Yeah, it opens next month and I have one more piece to finish up. Plus I have this new idea for how I want the installation to look and I need to figure out if it’s actually possible. I know that we can hang things from the ceiling, but with metal, I need to either make the apparatus part of the piece or make it unobtrusive so that it doesn’t detract from the art. I’ve got this idea to make it part of the experience, but I’ve yet to see if it, ya know, works.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That sounds complex, but also super cool,” Darcy said, picking up a menu and looking it over. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I like the challenge,” Gertie said with a shrug.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can understand that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So have you seen the new signs in the laundry room?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Darcy looked up at her, the question clear on her face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“About the cat that steals underwear?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Darcy laughed. “Oh, those? Yeah. I put them up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You what?!” Gertie asked, practically choking on her drink.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s my cat. Apparently she’s started stealing underwear. Boxers, to be specific. I don’t even know why.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gertie stared at her for a moment before she burst out laughing. “I should have known it would be something ridiculous like that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They both paused to place their orders before Gertie gave her a look that clearly said </span>
  <em>
    <span>finish this story</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Honestly I wouldn’t have even known it was happening if my neighbor hadn’t told me Florence had taken his boxers. When I found her stash I assumed they were all his and was honestly kind of impressed about how extensive his collection must have been to not miss the many pairs I found, but it turned out only one pair was his. Thus the fliers.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Heard back from anyone?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The waitress dropped off their meals before Darcy answered. “Yeah, I got one email last night. I’m meeting up with him tomorrow.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You have to tell me everything. I’m dying to know about how these exchanges go down. I can feel a new sculpture coming on inspired by the utter ridiculousness that is your cat.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m dying to know what your welded interpretation of boxers looks like.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t sass me and you might find out,” Gertie said, punctuating her words with a jab of her fork.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I expect to be credited in your artist’s note,” Darcy said with a snobby sniff.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gertie smiled. “Of course you will be.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The rest of the lunch was just as amusing while she listened to Gertie talk about the curator she was trying to snag a date with but that seemed oblivious to her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Darcy smiled as she parted ways with Gertie at the gallery. She had a wonderful, perfect, afternoon sprawling ahead of her, and she refused to think about grading final exams of her job search for any of that time. She decided to walk for a bit before heading back so she could enjoy the excellent weather.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She wasn’t sure how long she had been wandering when she heard a pained grunt from the alley ahead. Her eyes widened as she heard a noise that definitely sounded like a smack of flesh on flesh.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What should Darcy do?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Rush into the alley to help.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Call for help.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Cautiously approach the alley and see what’s going on, hopefully without being seen herself.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Ignore it.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Darcy paused for just a moment before peeking around the corner of the building to see into the alley. While it was darker as the building cast a long shadow, the day was still bright enough that she could see fairly well. About halfway down there was a man who was now kicking someone that was on the ground, their hands curled around their head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” she shouted, running headlong into the alley. That man had a lot of nerve to be beating someone up in broad daylight.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man whipped around. He had short cropped hair and was jacked. “Stay back,” he snarled. “This had nothing to do with you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The hell it doesn’t,” she countered, her hand already going to her bag for her taser. “I take it pretty personally when someone is a violent jackass in my city.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your city?” the man sneered. “What are you, some kind of vigilante? You call yourself the lipstick bandit, sweetheart?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What was with misogynistic men being in foul moods around her? Her eyes flicked to the person on the ground who was slowly trying to pull themselves back up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So what if I was?” she shot back at the man, trying to keep his focus on her. She was still pretty close to the mouth of the alley. Even if he came at her, she’d be on the street in no time. “Do you have a problem with getting your ass handed to you by a woman? Bet that really grinds the gears in your tiny, simple mind.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was pretty sure the sound the man made was a growl. “I think you need to dance on back to the main street and leave the physical work to the men. We were having an important discussion that you just interrupted.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course you think that beating someone up is a discussion,” she muttered. The person that had been on the ground was revealed to be another man. He was in a baggy cardigan and a button down shirt. His hair was lighter and just the tiniest bit curly. He also had some sort of gun in his hand that he shot point blank at the other man.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The ripped man suddenly crumpled into a heap on the ground and the curly haired man gave a satisfied smile. “Thanks for your help. He should be out for at least two hours. I knocked him out with enough to take down a super.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No problem, dude. Uhh, you need me to call anyone?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man started to move toward her, but he was limping severely. She raced forward to help support him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My phone broke, so yeah, a call might be helpful.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, and maybe like a doctor. You’re definitely not okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My team will be able to patch me right up if we can call them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She helped him limp up to the mouth of the alley and looked up. “We’re like two blocks from my apartment. Do you want to head that way or nah?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He gave her an incredulous look. “You don’t even know my name. Do you really think it’s safe to take me back to your apartment?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, considering you can barely walk, and I do have skills that are more than what you might expect, yeah. Besides, how else am I supposed to get you to give me your name and number?” she asked with an exaggerated wink.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He laughed a little, but it was clear the action hurt, so it cut off fairly quickly. “Fitz,” he said. “My name is Leo Fitz.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well Mr. Fitz, it’s very nice to meet you. I’m Darcy Lewis.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He practically stopped. “Dr. Darcy Lewis?” he asked, looking at her carefully.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“One and the same,” she said, eyeing him up. What were the chances that another cute guy would know her by reputation?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My boss is going to lose his mind,” he said, his tone light and joking. “I can’t wait.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your boss knows who I am?” They were getting close now. Just half a block more to her building.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fitz nodded. “He used to complain about your penchant for hacking and making things harder for him. Course, now I think he’d spend his time trying to recruit you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Darcy frowned. How could his boss know about her hacking? Not that it was any sort of secret, but she was typically pretty good at what she did, and what she did was normally small potatoes sorts of things. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well maybe he’ll be in luck. I just found out I need to find a new job. The university has decided that now that I’m done with my dissertation my services are no longer needed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked up at her sharply. “How is that possible? You’re amazing!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Goodness above his blush was too cute for words. “I know I am,” she said as she opened the door to her apartment. “Welcome home. Let’s get you on the couch and then you can call your team.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He let out a sigh as he sat, clearly in more pain than he had let on when they were walking the two blocks to her place. She unlocked her phone and threw it at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m going to grab my first aid kit and some ice. Go ahead and make your call.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She disappeared into the bathroom and then the kitchen, not really hearing what he was saying, but he was done by the time he returned. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All good?” she asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded. “They said they’d be here in twenty minutes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good. Now let’s take a look at your side and your leg. You were favoring the leg and you were having trouble laughing. Let’s look at the chest first because, honestly, that’s a bigger concern to me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you trying to get my shirt off?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She blinked. Was he flirting with her? “I am,” she said easily. “Though not in the way I’d like to. I like my men able to take off their own shirt, but I have a feeling you won’t be able to, so we need to fix you up so you’re up to snuff.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a long ten minutes where she carefully helped him out of first his sweater and then his shirt. She refused to let herself think about his chest as she carefully examined the mottled bruising on his side. He flinched when she so much as brushed the skin with her fingers, and she wondered how he had been able to manage walking home with the fabric of his shirt rubbing against him. They applied some ice and she debated pulling off his hoe. If the injury was his ankle, maybe leaving the hoe on for now was a good idea to help keep it stable? She really should have taken that emergency medical aid class when she had the chance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was pulled from her musings by a knock on her door. She looked at Leo one more time. He gave her a tight smile, and she got up to answer the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello?” she said, pulling her door only partly open and not disengaging the chain.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re here for Fitz,” a bright voice said. “Heard he got himself in a bit of trouble.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She looked over at the couch and Fitz nodded that the voice was familiar. She disengaged the chain and opened the door, letting in what turned out to be a group of people.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you Miss Lewis,” said a familiar voice and she went to shut the door. “Or is it Dr. now?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Holy shit,” Darcy said looking up at the man in front of her. “I thought you were dead.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So did I,” he said with a smirk.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>How should Darcy respond to Phil?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Punch him for letting everyone think he was dead.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Just banter and lead him over to Fitz.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Mention that Fitz said he might offer her a job.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Something else that you (the reader) will argue for in the comments.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>To make your choice, simply drop your pick in the comments. While I will mostly go with "majority rules," a really well reasoned argument can also sway me, so if you feel deeply about a choice, let me know.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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